


Two Souls Entwined - A Sanders Sides Story

by mt_reade



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - High School, Angst and Humor, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, I'm Bad At Summaries, Inspired by Novel, Not a Love Story, Other, Short & Sweet, Sort Of, Souls, Twins, Two Minds One Body, haha this is complicated, i think thats all of them haha, just read the description
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:00:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 16,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27804979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mt_reade/pseuds/mt_reade
Summary: "Remus and Roman, Roman and Remus!" Our mother used to sing when she'd scoop us up into her arms like we were a gift from the heavens. She'd swing us through the air, when we were still small enough for her to. She used to nuzzle her nose against ours and coo. "My boys."Now, when we help make dinner, Dad only asks: "Remus, what would you like tonight?"No one uses my name anymore. It isn't Remus and Roman, Roman and Remus.It's just Remus.One little boy, instead of two.---Roman and Remus are twin souls who share a body, but nobody knows that Roman's still here. This quick-read story is inspired by the book "What's Left of Me" from the Hybrid Chronicles
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Deceit | Janus Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Logic | Logan Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Morality | Patton Sanders, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders & Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders & Deceit | Janus Sanders, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders & Logic | Logan Sanders, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders & Morality | Patton Sanders, Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders & Deceit | Janus Sanders, Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders & Logic | Logan Sanders, Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders & Morality | Patton Sanders, Deceit | Janus Sanders & Logic | Logan Sanders, Deceit | Janus Sanders & Morality | Patton Sanders, Logic | Logan Sanders & Morality | Patton Sanders
Comments: 16
Kudos: 44





	1. Chapter 1

**_Hi all!_ **

**_Before we get started, I just wanted to get some quick announcements out of the way:_ **

**_This story is about_ ** **_ brotherly  _ ** **_Creativitwins. This is not a romance. I figured that that would go without saying, but I'm just putting this out there for precautionary purposes._ **

**_This book contains the following triggering topics: Fighting, passing out/fainting, mentions of death/disappearance, character death/disappearance, mentions of suicide and suicidal thoughts (although brief), memory loss, hospitals and medical treatment, lewd comments or nicknames (It's Remus, guys)_ ** **_, and cursing._ ** **_If you feel unsafe or uncomfortable at any point throughout this story, please stop reading. Stay safe, all of you <3_ **

**_This is just a quick read, a shorter story that's mostly dialogue based. I'm working on some bigger projects right now, but I decided to take a break from those to write something a bit smaller for the meantime._ **

**_I think that's everything. I hope you all enjoy!_ **


	2. Chapter 2

Remus and I were born into the same body. Each of our souls entwined like we were holding hands since before we took our very first breath. Those early years, when we didn't have to be concerned over our souls at all, were our happiest. We wasted away the days playing under the sun, with plastic swords and red and green sidewalk chalk.

But those years ended, and then came the worries. Then came the tightness around our parents' mouths, the frowns that used to line our kindergarten teacher's forehead, and of course, the question that everyone always asked. It seemed like it had been the only thing anyone knew _how_ to ask when it came to Remus and I, either directly to our parents' faces or just in whispers to each other as we passed by. The question that was etched permanently into our memories like a scar.

_Why aren't they settling?_

Settling.

The word had been foreign then, and we struggled to sit it comfortably in our five-year-old mouth. It left an unfamiliar taste on our tongue. We knew what it meant. Kind of. It meant that one of us was supposed to take control. Take control of our shared body, our words, our heart. It meant that the other was supposed to fade.

I know now that it means much, much more than that. But at five years old, Remus and I were still naive, still oblivious.

But the varnish of innocence had begun being worn away by the time we reached first grade. It had been our speckled-glasses-and-pink-tie-wearing guidance counsellor who'd made the first scratch in the polish. "You know," Dr. Picani had said. "Settling isn't scary. I know it might seem like it right now, but it happens to everybody! The recessive soul, whichever one of you that is, will just... go to sleep."

He never specified which one of us he thought was going to survive. But he didn't have to. By the time we'd reached first grade, everyone believed that Remus was the dominant soul. He could overpower me. He could move us left when I wanted to go right, or refuse to open our mouth when I wanted to eat. He could cry out a " _Yes_ " when I so desperately wanted to say " _No_ ". He could do it with such little effort, next to none. As time passed, I grew ever weaker as his control only increased.

But, I could still force my way through sometimes, and I did if I could. Occasionally, when Mom would ask us about our day, I would gather up all of my strength to break through, and tell her _my_ version of things. When we played games like hide and seek, I could push to the surface and force us behind the bushes instead of continuing to run for the tall tree that Remus wanted to attempt to climb. Once, I managed to jerk us while we were bringing Dad his coffee. The burns hurt for weeks afterward.

The more my strength waned, the more I scrambled to hold on. I wouldn't, _couldn't_ give up. I would lash out in any way I could, just to convince myself that I would not disappear. Remus hated me when I did it, but I couldn't just let go, over fear of the fall. The fall away from my family, my life. I remembered the freedom that I used to have. It was never complete, of course, because I always shared with Remus. But I could remember when _I_ was able to run, to joust a stick like a mighty sword, to raise my hand in class at school, or ask Mom for a hug.

During those middle years, Remus and I fought all the time.

_< Shut up, Roman>_ Remus would say. < _Just shut up, and go away! >_

And for a long time, I thought that someday I would.

Our parents took us to our first specialist when we were six. She was a scientist, and much sterner than our school guidance counsellor. Many more specialists would follow, with their machines and tests and fees that weren't at all insignificant. By the time we'd reached sixth grade, Remus and I had been through three therapists, and taken five different types of medication. All in the effort to do what nature should have already done: get rid of the recessive soul.

Get rid of me.

To be fair, the medicine did do something. I became steadily weaker and weaker, and my outbursts became less and less frequent. I was slipping. My hold on the slick cliffside was breaking off, and it was a steep fall. The hardest part about it wasn't the fear of falling asleep one night, and suddenly not being able to wake up. The hardest part wasn't the idea of losing Remus, or the vast unknown of the expanse of nothingness that settling could mean. The hardest part was how relieved our parents were when they couldn't hear me anymore. They tried to keep it concealed, but Remus and I both heard their gasps of _"Finally"_ on the outside of our closed bedroom door when I didn't say goodnight when they tucked us in one evening.

Because we were the boys who just wouldn't settle... and we were slipping.

It was at that moment, that Remus stopped hating me. It was then, that I felt a wave of guilt and twinges of fear waft over from his side of our shared core. From then on, at night, when no one else could see, Remus would let me use all of my strength reserves to take control, and walk around our bedroom. I would touch my face to the cold glass of our window pane, and I'd cry my own tears.

_< I'm sorry.> _He would say to me, and I'd known that he'd meant it, despite all the things that he'd said before. But that didn't change anything.

I was terrified. I was eleven years old, and even though I'd been told my whole life that the recessive soul was supposed to fade away... I didn't want to go. I wanted to get to see twenty million more sunrises, I wanted thousands of conversations with friends, I wanted a hundred more cups of hot chocolate, I wanted to know what it was like to kiss someone for the first time. All of the other recessives had faded away at four or five, so it might have been easier then. They knew less. They had less to lose.

Maybe that's why things turned out the way that they did. I just wanted the adventure of life too badly. I yearned for it, and I grasped at the strands of it even if it felt like it was slipping through my fingers. I refused to fade completely. Somehow, little pieces of me held on.

My motor controls vanished eventually, yes. I couldn't move or speak aloud anymore. But I was still there, in our head, inside us. I could watch and listen, but I was paralyzed.

Nobody but Remus and I knew, and neither of us was going to tell. Or, well, Remus wasn't. Because, by this time, we'd learned a few things. We'd learned of what awaited kids who never settled. We'd learned about the institutions where they were taken, never to return. So we hid it.

Soon after, Dr. Picani gave a bill of clearance. They had confirmed that I was gone, and he bid us goodbye with a pleased smile. Our parents were ecstatic, and bought us a fancy dinner that they couldn't really afford. They packed up our things, and moved four hours away to a new state, a new neighbourhood, where no one knew us. Where we could start over, and no one thought of Remus and I as the "Hybrid Kids."

I remember seeing our new home for the first time, looking through the car window at the tiny, off-white house with the black shingled roof and dilapidated siding. Old and shabby, with a garden overrun with weeds. In the frenzy of our parents helping the worker men unload the moving truck, and lugging in boxes and suitcases, Remus and I had been left alone for a moment. We were given a minute to just get out of the car and stand there in the cold winter breeze, and just breathe in the sharp air that bit at our nose.

After so many years, things were finally how they were supposed to be. Our parents could look other people in the eye again. We could approach people on the playground again. We joined a seventh-grade class that didn't know about all the years before that we'd spent huddled at a desk wishing that we could disappear.

They could be a normal family, with normal worries. They could be happy.

They.

They didn't realize that it really wasn't _they_ at all, it was still _us._

I was still there.

But I was alone. I still am.

"Remus and Roman, Roman and Remus!" Our mother used to sing when she'd scoop us up into her arms like we were a gift from the heavens. She'd swing us through the air, when we were still small enough for her to. She used to nuzzle her nose against ours and coo. "My boys."

Now, when we help make dinner, Dad only asks: "Remus, what would you like tonight?"

No one uses my name anymore. It isn't Remus and Roman, Roman and Remus.

It's just Remus.

One little boy, instead of two.


	3. Chapter 3

The bell rings through the depths of our tenth grade science classroom, signalling that the day is finally over. People are blasting out of their seats in an instant, slapping books shut, shrugging on sweaters, shoving folders into backpacks. A buzz of pencils dropping and conversation nearly drowned out the teacher as she yelled reminders about next week's field trip. The students file out of the classroom in a mound of chaos, and Remus is among them. He almost reaches the door before I say: _< Wait, we've got to ask the teacher about our make-up test, remember?>_

 _< Whatever, I'll do it tomorrow.> _Remus says, pushing his way out into the hall. Our history teacher always gives us looks like she knew the secret in our head, pinching her lips together tightly and frowning at us when she thinks that we aren't watching. Maybe I'm just being paranoid. But, maybe not. Regardless, doing poorly in her class will only bring about more trouble.

 _< What if she doesn't let us?> _I ask.

The school is overflowing with a cacophony of noise. Lockers slamming, people laughing, but I can still hear Remus' voice perfectly in the quiet space linking our minds. There, it is peaceful, for now at least. I can feel Remus' restless irritation like a dark shadow in the corner. _< She will, Roman. She always does, don't get your panties in a twist.>_

_< I'm not. I just—>_

"Remus!" Someone shouts, and Remus half turns. "Remus, wait up!"

We'd been so lost in our internal argument that we hadn't even noticed the boy chasing after us. It's Patton Hart, one hand pushing up his glasses, the other trying to wrestle his Scooby-Doo backpack over his shoulders. He slips past a tight-knit group of students who are yammering on about their respective days, before making it to our side with an exaggerated sigh of relief. Remus groans, but silently, so that only I can hear.

"You're a really fast walker." Patton says, and he smiles playfully, as if he and Remus are friends.

Remus shrugs. "I didn't know you were following me." The additional " _Like a creepy cockslut."_ goes unsaid, because I whisper a harsh warning to be nice before he can, so he bites his tongue in one of the rare instances where Remus actually listens to me.

Patton's smile doesn't dim. But then, he's the kind of person who grins in the face of a hurricane. In another body, another life, he wouldn't be stuck chasing after someone like us in the hallway. He's too pretty for that, with those long eyelashes and porcelain skin, and too quick to laugh. But there's a difference written into his face, into the set of his cheekbones and the slant of his nose. He has an aura of peculiarity and strangeness about him, an aura that broadcasts _"Not Quite Right."_ Remus had always stayed away from Patton. We had enough problems pretending to be normal, without some odd little sheep at our hip.

There's no easy way to avoid Patton now, though. He falls into step beside us, tugging down on the hem of his knitted cream-colour pullover as he walks. "So, are you excited about the field trip next week?"

"Not really." Remus says, and I can feel his longing to curse from beside me inside, but I keep pushing him to be polite. Patton is sensitive, and famous for breaking out into tears in the middle of the corridors. Neither of us want to be responsible for that.

"Me neither." Patton says cheerfully. "Are you busy today?"

"Kind of." Remus says. He manages to keep our voice even and a little menacing, despite Patton's dogged high spirits. Our fingers tighten around the strap of our bookbag.

"Want to come over?" Patton offers.

Remus' smile is strained. As far as we know, Patton had never asked anyone over. Or, more likely, no one would ever go. _< Can't he take a fucking hint?> _Remus whispers to me internally. Aloud, he says, "Can't. I've got to babysit."

"For the Sanders?" Patton asks.

Of course for the Sanders. They're the only family who in their right mind would leave a child with Remus. Only because they're good friends with our parents, and didn't want to have to awkwardly turn them down when they offered that Remus could babysit their sons.

"Remy, Dice, and Thomas." Remus corrects. "But yeah, them."

Patton's dimples deepen. "I love those kids! They use the pool in my neighbourhood all the time. Can I come?"

Remus hesitates. "I don't know if their parents would like that."

"Are they still there when you arrive?" Patton asks, and when Remus reluctantly nods, adds: "We can ask, then, right?"

 _< Holy shit. Doesn't he see how rude he's being?> _Remus asks me, and I knew I should agree. But, Patton keeps smiling and smiling, even though his eyes are slowly becoming more and more desperate as the expression Remus puts on our face grows less and less friendly.

 _< Maybe we don't realize how lonely he is...> _Is what I say instead. Remus has his friends, and I, at the very least, have Remus. Patton seems to have no one at all.

"I don't expect to get paid or anything!" Patton is saying, hurriedly. "I'll just keep you company, you know?"

 _< Remus,> _I say. _< Let him. At least let him come ask.>_

Remus hesitates, but eventually curses at me before saying something to Patton. "You can ask."

"Great!" Patton exclaims, grabbing our hand. He doesn't seem to notice Remus flinch in surprise when his fingers grasp our own. "I have so much to talk to you about."


	4. Chapter 4

The television is blaring when Remus opens the Sanders' front door, with Patton following close behind. Mr. Sanders sees us, and grabs his briefcase and keys immediately. "Kids are in the living room, Remus." He says as he hurries out the door. "Call if you need anything." He says over his shoulder as he goes.

"Wait, Mr. Sanders, this is Patton Har—" Remus tries to say, but the other is already gone, leaving us alone with Patton in the foyer.

"He didn't even notice me." Patton says, quietly.

Remus rolls our eyes. "He's always like that." Our parents weren't the only ones in town with too much work and too little time.

The living room TV is tuned to a cartoon featuring a pink rabbit and two rather enormous mice. It's the one that Remus and I used to watch when we were younger, but Remus lost interest in it at about ten years old, even though I always wanted to know what happened to the characters. But we had stopped watching it, because we do what Remus says.

But, apparently, seven-year-olds aren't too old to be allowed to watch cartoons, though, because Thomas is lying on his stomach on the carpet, his chin resting on his hands and his legs raised and waving back and forth. His little brother sits beside him, equally as engrossed.

"He's Remy right now." Thomas says, without turning around. The cartoon ends, being replaced with a public service announcement, and Remus looks away. We've seen enough PSA's. At the old hospital we'd gone to, they'd played them on a loop. Endless rounds of good-looking men and women with friendly voices and wide grins reminding us to always be on the lookout for the unsettled hybrids. They could be hiding somewhere, pretending to be normal. People who'd escaped hospitalization. People like Remus and me.

 _"Just call the number on the screen,"_ They'd say, through perfectly white teeth. _"Just one call, for the safety of your children, your family, your country."_

They never say exactly what would happen after you make that call, but I guess they didn't need to. Everyone already knows. Hybrids are too unstable to just leave alone, so calls usually lead to investigations, which sometimes lead to seizures. We've only ever seen a raid on the news or in the documentaries they show at school sometimes, but it's more than enough.

Remy jumps up and pads over to us, casting an apprehensive and confused glance over at Patton. Patton crouches down without pause, even though he's wearing a skirt, and smiles at him. "Hi, Remy! I'm Patton, do you remember me?"

Thomas finally looks away from the screen, frowning at Patton suspiciously. "I remember you. Mom says that—"

Remy tugs on our pant leg, jerking it down as he looks up at us, cutting Thomas off before he can finish. "We're hungry."

"They're not really." Thomas says, standing up now. "I just gave them a cookie. They want another one." He reveals the box of cookies that he'd been hiding from view. "Are you going to play with us?" He asks Patton.

Patton smiles, and nods. "I'm here to help babysit."

Remus picks Remy up, and he's quick to wrap his arms around our neck, setting his tiny chin on our shoulder, his brown hair tickling our cheek. Patton grins and wiggles his fingers at him. "How old are you now, Remy?"

Remy just narrows his eyes at Patton.

"He's three and a half." Remus says. "The bi--I mean the sassiest three-year-old I've ever met. They should be settling in a year or so." He readjusts Remy in our arms and forces a smile onto our face. "Isn't that right, Remy?"

"He's Dice now." Thomas says, grabbing his box of cookies and munching on one as he speaks.

Everyone looks at the little boy. He beams up at us, loving the sudden attention on him.

 _< He's right.> _I say. _< He just changed.>_

I've always been better at differentiating between Remy and Dice, even if Remus denied it. Maybe it's because I didn't have to focus on moving our body or speaking to other people. I can just watch, listen, and notice all of the little ticks that differentiate one soul from the other.

"Dice?" Remus says.

The toddler wriggles in our arms, and Remus sets him down. He runs over to his brother, who offers him what's left of his cookie. Dice sticks out his tongue. "Ew. Want new one."

Thomas shrugs, slipping the rest of the cookie into his mouth. "Remy would've taken it."

"Would not!" He cries.

"Would too. Right, Rem?"

Dice's face screws up. "No, it's ew."

Thomas ruffles the hair on his little brother's head. "I didn't ask _you._ "

 _< Better hurry.> _I say. _< Before Dice pitches a fit.>_

To my surprise, Patton gets there before we do, plucking a cookie from the box and dropping it into Dice's outstretched hands. "There," He says, crouching down again, and wrapping his arms around his knees. "Is that better?"

Dice blinks. His eyes shift between Patton and his new prize. Then he grins slyly and bites into the cookie, crumbs cascading down his shirt.

"Do you like chocolate chip? I do. They're my favourite." Patton says with a kind smile.

A nod. Dice takes another bite of his cookie.

"What about Remy?" Patton asks. "What kind of cookies does he like?"

Dice gives a sort of half shrug. "Same kind."

Patton's voice is much quieter when he speaks again. "Would you miss him, Dice? If Remy went away?"

"Okay, how about we go into the kitchen?" Remus interjects, reaching over and stealing the box of cookies away from Thomas, earning him an indicative shout of wordless outrage. "You can eat them in the kitchen. Your mom would hang me with her pantyhose if I let you three get crumbs in the carpet."

Remus turns, and grabs Dice's hand, the one not holding his cookie, and starts pulling him away from Patton. But, he doesn't do it fast enough. Dice has time to turn. He has time to look at Patton, who's still crouching there on the ground, and whisper, "Yes."


	5. Chapter 5

It's getting dark by the time Mr. and Mrs. Sanders come home, and the sky is a layered wash of gold, peach, and indigo blue. I insist that Remus split the babysitting money with Patton, even though he and Patton both protest the gesture. _< He was more helpful than we expected. Give him at least some, Remus.>_

Dice and Remy had switched twice more during the course of the evening, and both adored Patton by the end of it. Thomas had followed us to the front door when we left, asking if Patton was coming back next time. Whatever it was that his mother had said about Patton, and judging by the way the woman looked at him when she came home, it wasn't good, had long since slipped Thomas' mind.

It turns out that we live in the same direction, so Patton says that he'd walk back with us. We set out into what's left of the evening sun, the air dripping with humidity and the newly-awakened spring mosquitoes. It's only April, but a recent heat wave has driven the temperature to record highs, so we break a bit of a sweat as we walk, even though the remnants of the afternoon are low in the sky.

Remus and Patton walk slowly, silently. The dying sunlight lifts traces of blonde from Patton's curly brown hair and makes his skin glow. We've never seen anyone act the way that he had toward Dice and Remy before.

"I wonder..." Patton starts, but then he falls quiet, voice fading away with the sunset.

Remus doesn't press, he's too wrapped up in his own thoughts, that he seems to be deliberately shutting me out from. But, even if he isn't listening, I am. I wait for Patton to continue.

"I wonder," He says again, after a moment. "I wonder who's going to be the dominant when they settle, Dice or Remy."

"What?" Remus blinks back to life. "Oh, they're both so hot-headed it's tough to say. But, I'd guess Dice. He's started to control things more, and besides he's always been the smarter of the two."

"It's not always who you think it is." Patton says quietly, lifting his eyes from the ground. The little white gems that stud his glasses frames caught the yellow light and winked. "It's all science, right? Brain connections and neuron strength, and other stuff set up before you're even born. That's what my brother says, anyway. He says that you can't tell those things just by looking at people."

Remus looks away. "Yeah, I guess."

So what, then? I never stood a chance, anyway?

Patton seems to sense our discomfort, and changes the subject. He and Remus chat about school, and the most recent movies they'd seen, until we reached Patton's neighbourhood. There's a big iron gate leading into it, and a skinny boy that looks not much older than ourselves stands beyond it. He glances up at us as we approach, but he doesn't say anything. Patton waves when he notices him. The two look alike, he has Patton's dark brown eyes and hair, although his is slicked back. We've heard about Patton's older brother, but we have never seen him before. Remus stops walking a couple of yards from the gate, so we don't get close enough to really see him again today, either. Even though I wanted to.

"Bye," Patton says as he continues towards where his brother stands. The boy in question is now punching something into a keypad on the inside of the gate, before the gate yawns open. "I'll see you tomorrow!"

"Yep. Tomorrow." Remus says.

We wait until Patton and his brother are almost out of sight before turning and heading towards home, this time alone. Well, not really alone. Remus and I are never alone.

 _< What was that all about?> _Remus demands, kicking our feet as he walks. _< Inviting him babysitting with us? What the hell, Roman? We hardly know him.>_

 _< I told you, maybe he's lonely. Maybe he wants to be friends.> _I say.

 _< Oh yeah, sure.> _Remus snips, sarcastically. _< After four years?>_

_< Why not?>_

Remus hesitates. _< Well, I can't be his friend. You know that, Roman. Not at school.>_

Not where people might see.

 _< And what was that with Remy and Dice?> _Remus' irritation mounts inside us. He darts across the street without caution, forcing an oncoming car to slam on its brakes and blare its horn at us. _< Asking about them? Where was he going with that? They are right about to settle. If he confuses them, they might get delayed. They might--> _He didn't complete his sentence, but he didn't need to.

They might turn out like us.

For years, our parents had struggled to discover why their sons weren't settling like normal. They blamed everyone, from our preschool teacher, to our doctors, to our friends. In the darkest hours of the night, they fired blame at each other. At themselves.

But worse than the blame, was the fear. The fear that if we didn't settle, there would come the day when we wouldn't be allowed home from the hospital. We'd grown up with the threat of it ringing in our ears, dreading the deadline of our eleventh birthday. Our parents had begged, we'd heard them through the thin walls of our hospital room. They pleaded with the doctors, begging for just a little more time. It would happen, it was already working. I'd be gone soon, just _please._

I don't know what else happened beyond those walls. I don't know what convinced those officials in the end, but when our mother and father had returned to our bedside, they'd been exhausted and white in the face. They told us that we had more time. Not a lot, but some.

A year later, I was declared gone.

Our shadow is long now, slashing across the pavement of the sidewalk as we walk. Our legs are heavy. Strands of our hair gleam golden in the wan light.

 _< Let's watch a movie tonight.> _I say, trying to fuse a smile with my words.

_< Yeah, okay. But no more fucking Disney. I'm watching something with spirits or something in it.>_

_< Hercules has spirits in it!> _But, the protest is only half-hearted. I don't want to argue with Remus after he'd actually listened to me today, and isn't too happy about it. _< Don't worry about Dice and Remy. They'll be fine.>_

We walked in silence from then on, both inwardly and outwardly. I feel the dark, brooding mists of Remus' thoughts drifting against my own every now and again, but we're both doing our best to keep them from each other. I don't mind not knowing what Remus is thinking about, even if it's probably cussing me out. In a way, I'm actually glad, because then I can be sure he can't hear what _I'm_ thinking about, either.

Because I can't let Remus know what I'm dreading. Dreading, dreading. Dreading the day that Dice and Remy _did_ settle. Dreading the day that we'd go over to babysit, and find just one little boy staring up at us.


	6. Chapter 6

"Remus, wait up!"

We've only made it a few steps down the hall before someone shoots out of the classroom behind us and calls out Remus' name.

"What is it, Patton?" Remus asks, barely holding back an annoyed sigh.

To my surprise, Patton's smile falters a bit, but only for a moment. Enough though, to push me to say: _< Remus, don't be rude.>_

_< He keeps following us around, and I don't want to talk to him. I'd rather be fucked over a chainlink fence with a rusty spoon, at least I might get to-->_

_< Shut up, oh my god, that's disgusting.>_

"Want to come over for dinner?" Patton asks, eyes hopeful.

Remus stares at him. The hall is filling with people, but neither he of Patton move from their spots in the middle of the corridor.

"My parents are going out." Patton adds after a moment. "It's just gonna be my brother and me." He raises his eyebrows, wrapping his finger in a curl that hangs over his left eye. His smile returns with full force. "But I'd rather have a friend."

 _< Remus.> _I say. _< Stop staring. Say something.>_

"Oh." Remus says. "Well, I can't. Sorry."

"Why not?" Patton asks, curiously.

"It's uh-- This shirt." He lifts the hem of our shirt for Patton to see. "Got this stain I need to wash out before my parents get home."

Our shirts are always stained though, more often than not, anyway. Thanks to Remus.

"You can wash it at my house if you don't want your parents to see." Patton offers, insistent. His voice is softer now, though. Less brilliant in its cheerfulness, but gentler. "I've got stuff you could wear while it dries, no problem. You can change back before you leave, and no one would ever know!"

 _< Why not just go?> _I ask him.

_< You know why.>_

Patton takes a step towards us. We're almost the same height, mirroring each other; or, inverting each other. "Remus? Is something wrong?"

"No." Remus says quickly. "No, nothing."

"Then, can you come?" Patton says, excitedly.

 _< Come on, Remus.> _I say. _< Go. No one will know. Nobody even talks to him. What can it hurt?>_

I feel Remus waver, and I push harder. I know I am trying my luck, especially since it amuses Remus to no end to deliberately do the opposite of what I ask him to. But I take my chances. Remus might not appreciate this boy who questioned Dice about Remy, and who doesn't flinch from talking about settling, but I do. If nothing else, he intrigues me. _< It's Friday. Nobody's going to be home for dinner anyway.>_

Remus chews at our bottom lip. "Okay."

\--

Remus uses one of the payphones by the front office to tell Mom that we won't be home for dinner, so that by the time we reach the arranged meeting spot, most of the other students are gone. Patton stands alone by the school doors. He doesn't notice us until we are right next to him, and then he jumps as if we'd startled him from quiet reverie.

"You ready?" He asks, as soon as he found his voice.

Remus nods.

"Great! Come on, then."

The solemn contemplation of a moment ago disappears. Now, he's all bubbles and energy again. Remus hardly gets a word in edgewise as Patton blabbers on about how glad he is that it's finally Friday, and how much he loves spring.

Remus agrees that spring is nice enough, except for the mosquitoes and the humidity.

\--

We'd expected Patton's house to be larger than it is, especially after all of the pomp and circumstance of the wrought-iron gate that guards his neighbourhood. It's bigger than ours, of course, but smaller than those of the other people's that we'd visited after school. Whatever the size, the place is admittedly impressive, all worn brick and black shutters and a slender, pink-flowered tree in the front yard. The lawn is manicured and the door looks recently painted. Remus tries to peek in through one of the white-trimmed windows while Patton rummages through his backpack for his keys. We catch sight of a shiny dining table that's a deep mahogany. The Hart family certainly doesn't need a scholarship to afford to send Patton and his brother to respectable colleges when they're older.

"Logan?" Patton calls as he pushes the door open. No one answers, and Patton sighs. "He's probably upstairs working again."

I remember the boy that we'd seen at the gate yesterday, standing behind the thick black bars. Since he's two grades higher, Logan isn't as common of a topic of gossip around the lunch tables as Patton is, but our teachers mention him from time to time. Apparently, he's so smart that he'd skipped a grade.

Patton slips off his shoes, so Remus follows suit, undoing the laces and tossing our runners aside without much care on the welcome mat. By the time we look up again, Patton's in the kitchen with the refrigerator door open.

"Pop? Tea? Orange juice?" He calls. "I could steal you some of Logan's coffee if you want?"

"Soda's good." Remus says, trailing after Patton.

The kitchen is beautiful, with polished white cabinets and granite countertops. A small, lushly coloured statuette stands in one corner, next to a bowl of clementines. Remus stares, and I find myself too curious to remind him not to.

"I was thinking we'd get takeout." Patton says. Remus turns just in time to catch the pop can he'd tossed at us. It's so cold that we almost drop it. "Unless you're secretly a brilliant cook."

"I'm pretty good."

_< Liar. We're terrible.>_

"But, takeout sounds good." Remus adds.

Patton nods. "Logan?" He calls again. But there's still no answer. I think I see his mouth draw thinner.

"I've never actually met your brother before." Remus says.

"No?" Patton says. "No, I guess not, huh? Well, you'll meet him tonight. He really ought to be home... I don't know why he'd be late."

Patton sets his own soda aside on the counter, eyes slipping down our front. "Oh! Your shirt. While he's not here, we can..."

"Oh, right." Remus says, when he realizes what Patton's implying.

"Come on! You can choose something from my room to wear while we wash it." Patton motions for Remus to follow him as he picks up his drink and heads for the stairs. He does so. The stairs are covered with a rich, cream-coloured carpet that extends to the upstairs hallway. Our socks seemed too dirty to be on this floor, in this house, in this whiteness. But, Patton doesn't seem to care at all. He bounds on ahead, toward what must be his room at the end of the hall, leaving Remus trailing behind.

 _< Look,> _I say, whispering even though no one else could hear me. _< They've got a computer.>_

We can see it in one of the rooms on the way to Patton's bedroom. It's a large, complicated-looking thing that's sprawled over a desk. We use computers sometimes at school, but owning one is a different story. Remus pauses to stare at it and, by extension, the rest of the room. A bedroom, I realize, with a neatly made bed and... screwdrivers on the desk. Even more strangely, there is a second, gutted computer in the far corner. At least, I think it's a computer. Its wires hang out, bright silver parts naked and bared. This must be Logan's room, unless there's another member of the Hart family that I've never heard about.

"Remus?" Patton calls, and Remus turns away from the odd bedroom.

Patton's room is ten times messier than his brother's, but he doesn't seem the least bit embarrassed as he invites us inside and closes the door. He throws open his closet, and waves a hand at the clothes that hang off of metallic hangers inside. "Pick whatever you want, I think we're about the same size." He says.

Remus flicks through his closet, which is full of things that Remus would never wear. Pastel button-ups, knitted sweaters and pale cardigans, and an impressive collection of capri pants and skirts. Remus begins looking for something, anything, even a little bit black, as is his style. Patton perches himself on the edge of his bed.

Remus is about to ask if Patton maybe had something green as a second option, turning around to face him, when I notice something's wrong.

Patton's looking up at us from his bed, but there's something in his eyes. Something dark and solemn in his stare makes me stop, makes me say, _< Remus...?> _without hardly knowing why.

And then slowly, so slowly it's almost like it's deliberate, there's a _shift_ in Patton's face. That's the only way I can put it. Something miniscule, something no one would catch if they weren't staring straight at him, as Remus and I are now. Something that no one would notice, or would have even _thought_ to notice...

Remus takes a backwards step towards the door.

A shift. A change. Like how Remy changed to Dice.

But that's impossible.

Patton stands. His hair falls over his eyes when he tips his chin downward slightly. The tiny white rhinestones set into his glasses twinkle in the lamplight. He doesn't smile like he usually does. He doesn't tilt his head and ask _"What are you doing, Remus? Are you okay?"_

Instead, he says: "We just want to talk with you."

 _< We?> _I echo.

"You and Logan?" Remus asks.

"No," Patton says, shaking his head slowly. "Me and Patton."

A shudder passes through our body, so incredibly out of either Remus' or my control it might have been a shared reaction. Another step towards the door, backward, uneven. Our heart thumps in our chest.

"What?"

The boy standing in front of us smiles, but it's different than the radiant grin that Patton usually wears. It's small, just a twitch of the mouth that never reaches his eyes. "I'm sorry." He says. "Let's start over, shall we? My name is Janus. Patton and I just want to talk to you."

Then, Remus runs for the door, so fast that our shoulder slams into the wood of the doorframe. Pain shoots through our arm, but Remus ignores it, grabbing at the doorknob with both hands.

It refuses to turn. It just rattles and shakes. There's a keyhole right above the knob, but the key is gone. Something indescribable is rising inside me, something huge and suffocating and I can't think.

"Patton," Remus says. "This isn't funny."

"I'm not Patton." The boy says.

Only one of our hands grabs the doorknob now, as Remus presses our back against the door, our shoulder blades aching against the wood. Remus squeezes words from our throat. "You _are._ You're settled. You're--"

"I'm Janus."

"No."

"Please." The boy reaches for our arm, but Remus jerks away. "Please, Remus, listen to us."

The room is suddenly hot and stuffy and way too small. This isn't possible. This is _wrong._ Someone should have reported him. This can't be real. But it _was_. I'd seen it. I'd seen him change. I'd seen the shift.

" _You."_ Remus insists. " _You,_ not _us."_

" _Us._ " He says. "Me and Patton. _Us._ "

"No--" Remus twists around again. The doorknob rattles so hard in our hands it seems ready to fly right off of the door. Janus starts tugging at us, trying to make Remus face him.

"Remus," Janus says. "Please. Listen to me--"

But Remus won't. He won't stay still, he won't take his hand from the doorknob. He pushes up against the door desperately, and it feels like we can't breathe. He slams a shoulder against the door, which sends pain ricocheting through our arm. Janus is talking to him, trying to get him to stop, to listen, please. He pulls at our hands and shouts.

"Roman-- Roman, make him listen!"

The world shatters at the sound of his voice, the name that leaps from his tongue.

Roman.

 _Mine._ My name.

I haven't heard it said aloud in four years.

Remus locks eyes with the boy pulling at our sleeves. Everything is suddenly too clear, too sharp. The curl of his hair, his perfect, glossed nails that caught the overhead light. The furrows between his brows, the freckles across his nose.

"How...?" Remus whispers.

"Logan found it." Janus says. His voice is soft now. "He got into the school records. They keep track of everything if you haven't settled by first grade. Your oldest files list both names."

They did? Yes, the must have. Back in the first years of elementary school, before we'd moved here, our report cards had come home with two names printed on the top: _"Remus, Roman Knightly."_ In later years, _"Roman"_ had been left out.

I hadn't realized that my name had survived the move, the transfer of schools.

"Remus?" Janus says, and then, after a long, shuddery hesitation, "Roman?"

" _Don't._ " The word explodes from our chest, burning up our throat, and hitting the air with a crackle of lightning. "Don't. Don't say it." A pain slashes at our heart. Whose pain? "My name is Remus. Just Remus."

" _Your_ name, yes." Janus says. "But, it's not just you."

"Stop!" Remus cries, pressing us father up against the door. "You can't do this. _You can't talk like this."_

Our breaths shorten, our vision blurring. Our hands squeeze into fists, so tight that our nails bite crescent moons into our palms that sting and burn like fire. "I'm how I'm supposed to be." Remus says. "It _is_ just me. I'm Remus. I'm settled. It's okay now. I'm normal now. I--"

But Janus' eyes are suddenly blazing, his cheeks flushed. "How can you _say that_ , Remus? How can you say that when Roman's still there?"

Everything spins into confusion.

"What about Roman?" Janus' voice is shrill as he steps towards us with a glower. "What about _Roman?"_

Misery. Misery and pain and guilt flood the fields of our head. None of them mine. Remus' emotions slice into me like a blade. No matter what happened, what we said or did to each other, Remus and I are still two parts of a whole. Closer than close. Tighter than tight. His misery is mine.

 _< Don't listen to him.> _I manage to say. _< He doesn't know what he's saying.>_

But Remus keeps pushing against the door, and Janus keeps shouting, and the room packs to the brim with anger and guilt and fear.

Then, the world gives out.

Someone must have opened the door, because all of a sudden we're falling. Falling backward, and I'm screaming for Remus to catch us before we slam onto the ground. He's falling, and I'm bracing for both of us, bracing for the pain, because that's all I can do, until the falling stops. The falling stops, and we are staring up at the ceiling, panicked and vision blurry with Remus'-- _our_ fear. But, someone had caught us. His arms are around our body, holding us up.

"What the _hell_ did you do?" He says.


	7. Chapter 7

_< Remus, Remus listen.> _I keep saying. _< It's going to be okay, alright?>_

We take gasping breaths. Remus isn't speaking, and I'm unsure if he can. But I can feel his presence pressing against mine, hot and limp and stricken with fright.

"I didn't mean to," Someone is saying. "He wouldn't listen to me. I didn't know what to do. You wouldn't have done any better, Virgil. Also, you weren't even _home_ , and you said you were going to be--"

"I would've done better than _this!"_

I hear them speaking, but Remus has closed our eyes, and our pain overrides everything else.

_< Remus, say something. Say something, please.>_

"Remus? Remus, I'm sorry. Really, I am." It's Patton. Or, is it... Janus? It doesn't matter. All that matters right now is Remus. Remus, who finally takes a long, shaky breath.

"Are you okay?"

Remus says nothing, just stares at the ground, trying to stop his hands from shaking. I can feel the heat of his rising humiliation at having reacted the way he had.

 _< It's alright. Don't worry. Don't think about it. It's okay.> _I say, over and over again.

Finally, Remus looks at the boy crouched beside us, who has a hand on our shoulder.

"Patton?" Our voice is hoarse.

The boy's mouth slips down at the edges. He hesitates, before shaking his head once. "No." He says softly. "No, I'm Janus."

 _< I don't think he's lying, Remus.> _I say. But, he doesn't need me to tell him that.

"And Patton?" Remus whispers.

"Here too." Janus says with a small nod. "Patton walked home with you. He's the one who stopped you after class." He smiles, a little sadly. "He's better at those kinds of things, you see. I wanted him to tell you, but he said that I should do it. He was wrong, obviously."

Our mouth keeps opening and closing, but no sounds come out. This is like... a dream. A nightmare?

"That can't--" Remus shakes our head. "That can't happen."

"It can." Says a new voice. It's Patton's brother. He stands a couple of feet away, still dressed in his school slacks and tie. I barely remember Remus pushing us from his arms, in fact I barely remember seeing him at all. He holds a screwdriver in his hand, and the doorknob of the bedroom door lies on the floor at his feet. He'd dismantled it. "We--"

We.

Does he mean him and Patton? Or him, Patton, and Janus? Or him, his brothers, and some other being, some other _soul_ inside of him? Looking at him, seeing the way he's looking at us, I know it's the last.

"We know Roman's still there," He says, choosing his words very carefully. "And we can teach him how to move again."

Remus stiffens. I tremble, a ghost quivering in his own skin. Our body doesn't move at all.

"Do you want to know how?" The boy asks, slowly.

"Now _you're_ scaring him, Logan." Janus hisses. Logan. Right, his brother's name is Logan. But I'm sure that he'd used a different name a few minutes ago.

"If they find out--" Remus starts.

"They won't find out." Logan says.

Remus stands so suddenly, that it knocks Janus off of his balance, sending him from crouching, to sitting on the floor. "I have to go." Remus says.

_< Remus-->_

"I have to go." Remus repeats. "I have to leave."

"Wait." Janus jumps to his feet.

Our hands fly up, palms outward, warding him off. "Bye, Patton-- Janus-- _Patton._ I'm going home, okay? I have to go home." He backs up, stumbling all the way to the end of the hall. Janus starts forward, but Logan grabs his shoulder.

"Logan--" Janus says, trying to shrug his brother off.

Logan shakes his head and turns to us. "Don't tell anyone." His eyebrows lower. "Promise it. Swear it."

Our throat is dry.

 _"Swear it."_ Logan says.

 _< Remus.> _I say. _< Wait, Remus, don't leave. Please.>_

But Remus just nods. "I promise." He whispers. Then, he twists around and sprints down the stairs.

He runs the whole way home.


	8. Chapter 8

That night, Remus stares up at our ceiling late into the night. He can't sleep, and by extension, neither can I. Not that I want to.

I can see Patton's brother standing in that hallway, at the Hart's house. I can remember his eyes on us, remember every word that had come out of his mouth. He'd said I could move again. He'd said they could _teach_ me.

I can envision how easily Janus could move. How quick the change had been. How his smile is different from Patton's, and how he could walk, jump, speak, and I could hear him. I remember when I used to be able to do that. Before I became nothing but a whisper in Remus' ear.

 _< We're going back.> _I say, so very quietly. But I know that Remus hears me. He always does.

But he doesn't reply. We lie there, our head pressing into the pillow as we stare upwards into the darkness of our room.

Logan's words are like red-hot coals inside me, searing away four years of tenuous acceptance. The fire I used to have is rekindled, although fragile, and it's screaming to get out, to escape from the throat, the skin, the eyes are just as much mine as they are Remus'. But it can't.

 _< Can you even hear what you're saying?> _Remus demands. Honestly I'm surprised he doesn't attach some lewd insult to the end of his sentence. Although, his brain is probably just as fried as mine.

Normally, I wouldn't have responses. I've learned not to speak whenever I feel like this. To stay quiet, and make myself pretend that I don't care. It's the only way I can keep from going insane, to not die from the want, the _need_ to move my own limbs. I can't cry. I can't scream. I can only be quiet and let myself go numb. Then, at least, I won't have to feel anymore, won't have to endlessly crave what I can never have.

But not now. I can't stay quiet now.

 _< Yes.> _I say. _< I hear it, and you hear it. But no one else does, do they?>_

Remus rolls over in the bed, so that we face the wall. _< Roman... Can you imagine what they'll do to us if they find out? I know you've seen the horror shows about it, I've made you watch them.>_

_< I know.>_

_< Yes, I watch stuff like that, but I don't actually want it to happen! For real. To us.>_

_< I know, but-->_

_< We're safe like this.> _Remus says. _< For the first time since we were six, we're actually safe from them, and you want to throw that away?>_

My voice turns pleading, but I'm too desperate to care. _< This could be my only chance, Remus. I have to risk it-->_

 _< But it's not just your risk!> _Remus' tone becomes meaner now.

_< You don't understand, Remus. You can't, and you never will. Please just trust me!>_

Our eyes squeeze shut. _< I can't go back. We're not going back.>_

_< But I have to!>_

_< Well, you don't really have a choice, do you?>_

It's as if Remus sliced the tendons connecting us, leaving me raw and reeling. For a long, long moment, I can't find any words.


	9. Chapter 9

I don't know who suffers more when Remus and I don't speak to each other. For me, staying silent all Friday night and Saturday makes the time trancelike. The world swims like it's behind a waterfall of haze, distant and intangible.

On the other hand, Remus has no one to remind him of things. He forgets to get a towel before getting in the shower. Our alarm clock blares us awake at seven in the morning on a Saturday. He looks everywhere but the medicine cabinet for our hairbrush, but I say nothing.

Neither does Remus.

Saturday melts into Sunday, and Remus stays mute. I feel the emptiness beside me, the hard, blank nothingness that meant he'd bounded up his emotions, and is trying to keep me out.

We don't eat dinner that night. It gets caught in our throat, and Remus empties our plate into the trash while muttering a few pathetic excuses. He says he's going to bed, not feeling well. He heads upstairs, and brushes our teeth. I feel drowsy, like I'm half asleep, but I can stir enough to look at our reflection in the mirror. There are our brown eyes, our streaked wavy hair that Remus always dreamed of dying but never got around to doing. Then, Remus closes our eyes, and I can't look any longer. He rinses with our eyes still closed, feels for the washcloth, and presses it over our face. Warm. Damp.

_< We can't go back, Roman.>_

His voice fills the silence in our head, and I know that I should feel prideful, because he'd caved first. But, all I feel overwhelming relief.

 _< Think about what could happen.> _He says, keeping our face buried in the cloth. _< We could be normal now. We could be just like this.>_

I manage to find my own voice, after a moment. _< I don't want to be like this.>_

_< What if someone finds out? What if they take us away and do horrible things to us like in-->_

_< Remus.> _I say. _< If it had been you, if you were the one trapped in here, if you were the one who couldn't move, I'd go back. I'd go back in a second.>_

We stand there for a long time after that. A barefooted boy in a T-Shirt and faded black jeans, with water dripping down his chin, and a terrible secret in his head.


	10. Chapter 10

When the bell finally rings for lunch the next day, we realize that neither of us had remembered to bring lunch money. But neither of us feel like eating, so it doesn't matter. Remus leaves the classroom at a pace that makes it seem like our feet ust way a thousand pounds each.

Shouting fills the air in the hallway, bouncing off posters and banging into dented metal lockers. Remus has to duck out of the way to avoid being clocked in the head by someone's elbow as they yank off their shoulderbag.

 _< Which one's Patton's classroom?> _I almost hadn't dared to ask, considering everything that had happened over the weekend. But, I had to.

Remus looks down the hall. _< Five-oh-six.>_

We push our way towards room 506, gathering speed as the crowds thin. Remus walks stiffly, without his usual confident sashay of his hips, focusing every ounce of strength he has, to just keep putting one foot in front of the other, with deliberate force. He never pauses, and I'm glad for that, because I fear that if he stops, he won't start again. Soon, we're jogging, then running through the halls.

But we don't get to room 506, because we pass Patton's locker first. He stands before it, fiddling with his books. Remus freezes, and I feel his mind go white. I'd never felt him be like... like _this_ before.

_< Remus, say something.>_

But Remus doesn't budge. Our feet stay glued to where they are on the floor, our lips stapled shut. There are only half a dozen feet or so separating us and Patton, but it feels like miles.

_< Please, Remus. For me.>_

A fist closes around our heart, and Remus takes a painful step forward. "Patton?" He says, our sweaty hands clench and unclench at our sides.

Patton's head lifts just a little too quickly, his lips twitching upwards. "Oh, hey, Remus." He says.

Then the two just stand there, staring at each other. I can feel our heart leap into our throat, and I hope that Remus doesn't lose his courage. _Come on, Remus. Come on, please._

"I..." Remus starts, he glances over his shoulder to ensure that no one is listening. He lowers his voice. "Uh, R-Roman..." He says, so quietly that I don't know if Patton can even hear him. "Roman wants to learn." Our voice gives out. Remus isn't even fidgeting anymore, just staring ahead, not meeting Patton's eyes. If it even is Patton. Janus' name slithers through my thoughts like a snake.

"Oh, great." Patton whispers, his smile is warm and bright. No, that's Patton's smile. Warm like a hug, and bright like the sun. "That's so great, Remus." His voice sounds like chocolate.

Remus gives him a rigid smile.

"I'll meet you by the front door after school, okay?" Patton's smile extends to light up his eyes. "We'll go to my house. Then you can meet Logan and Virgil properly. It'll be great, I promise."

Virgil. The name of the second soul dwelling in Logan's body. I tuck it away, another piece of these past few days that I know are going to change everything.


	11. Chapter 11

This time, Logan is sitting at the kitchen table when Patton opens the door. He has his tie tugged loose, a screwdriver in one hand, and what looks like a small black coin in the other. A mess of tools lie scattered across the table, half encircling him like some sort of wall with knick-knacks for bricks. He looks up when we appear in the doorway, but only for a second, before returning to his tinkering with only a curt nod and a soft: "Hello."

"Hey." Remus says. His voice has none of the spark that he normally pumps into introductions. With other boys, especially those as admittedly as good looking as Logan, Remus is all over them. Flirting, whispering, winking. But, he hardly seems to want to so much as glance at this one.

Why? Because he isn't really one boy, but two? Because hidden inside his body are twin souls, hidden and secret?

If so, then Remus looks away for exactly the same reasons I want to stare until I can draw his face from memory. But, I'm not the one in control, so look away we do.

"Want some tea?" Patton asks, bustling past us and into the kitchen after kicking off his shoes.

"Tea?" Remus echoes, as he bends to numbly untie our shoes, picking at the thin laces.

"Yeah! It's good, I promise."

Remus kicks our shoes aside and steps into the house entirely. "Okay."

Nobody says anything about why we're here, although we all know. Remus stands in the doorway, crossing our arms over each other, and gripping our elbows so tightly that it almost hurts. Patton looks over his shoulder, from where he's rummaging through the cabinets in the kitchen. "Well, don't just stand there! Come on in, sit down." He points to the chair across from his brother. "Logan, entertain him while I get something from upstairs."

Logan raises an eyebrow without looking up from his coin. "Isn't he your guest, though?"

Patton tuts. "Ignore him." He whispers in our ear as he passes us, en route to the stairs. "He's just antisocial."

"You should actually ignore _him._ " Logan says, still not looking up from his work. "He's just upset that I took off his doorknob."

Patton sticks out his tongue at him, and then he's gone, up the stairs and away. That leaves us and Logan alone. Remus still hasn't moved.

Logan finally glances up at us. "You _can_ sit down, if you'd like." He nods to the empty chair across from him.

Remus nods and sits. Logan turns back to his tinkering and tools. The seconds tick by in silence. The air is awkward and stale, and everything is so tense.

_< Say something, Remus. For the love of all that is holy, you have to say something.>_

_< Can you think of something to say?> _Remus snaps. Our body tenses, irritation flickering to the corners of our eyes and mouth like a match catching flame.

Logan looks up.

_< Good going, cocksucker, now he's staring at us. What do I say?>_

That's the most in character thing that Remus has said since Friday, and oddly enough, it's actually comforting to hear him say it.

Logan is still watching us, his face still half tilted towards his hands.

 _< Fuck, think of something!> _Remus says. _< You wanted to talk to him, right? Well, think of something to say!> _He writhes in the silence. I wrack my mind, but Remus' discomfort and annoyance thrashing beside me, paired with Logan's eyes on us is making it hard to think straight.

_< Uh, just say-->_

"So are you really Logan right now, or should I be thinking of you as Virgil?"

The question bursts from our lips, and no matter how fast Remus shoves our fist against our mouth, he can't take it back. I'm too shocked to speak.

Logan blinks. Or, _is_ he Virgil? The boy frowns, looking more nonplussed than truly annoyed. "No, I'm Logan. But, if you would prefer Virgil, I can--"

"No." Remus says, leaning back in the chair a bit. "No, that's fine. Thanks though."

Logan watches us with a look of quiet puzzlement on his face for a moment, before nodding and returning to his work. Silence reigns, broken only by the clicking of Logan's screwdriver when his hand slips.

 _< That's smart.> _I say bitterly. _< Make him hate us. Always a good plan.>_

Heat rushes to our face. _< Oh fuck off, Roman. Would you rather leave? Because I will. Right now.>_

I fall silent. A wall slams down between Remus and me, sealing his emotions to his half of our mind. But he doesn't do it quite quickly enough, and I feel a tendril of guilt. But, I'm not really upset. More than anything, I'm glad to be bickering with my twin again.

The kettle starts to shriek behind us.

"Coming!" Patton calls, running down the stairs. He skids to a stop by the kitchen counter and reaches over to switch off the stovetop. The kettle's screech putters into a low whistle, and then silence. There's a few moments of quiet, interrupted only by the clinking of mugs and what's probably a spoon.

Remus tears our eyes away from Logan's hands. "What kind of tea is it?"

"Oh, um, something my dad gets. I forget the name." Patton says, as he sets a mug on the table in front of us. He pulls the spoon inside it out against the rim so that it doesn't drip. "I put a little cold milk in it, so it's not that hot. Try it, it's good!"

Two sets of eyes through two sets of glasses watch as Remus takes a sip. We've hardly ever had hot tea before. This tastes sweeter than I'd expected, milky and spiced.

"Janus is obsessed with tea at the moment." Logan says, cooly. "A month ago it was those ornate pocket knives."

Janus. Our eyes dart up to Patton's face. Is he Janus now? But, of course, the boy next to us looks exactly the same. Same curly brown hair, same dimples, same brown eyes. I don't know him and Patton well enough to really be able to discern between them, like I can Remy and Dice.

"I'm not _obsessed_." The boy says, taking a long sip from his own mug. So, Janus, then. "And I'd still collect the pocket knives if Mother would let me."

"The tea does taste good." Remus adds.

Janus smiles at us, a one-sided smirk. "Doesn't it?"

A moment crawles by. Remus fingers the handle of our mug. Even through the wall in our mind, I can feel his tension mounting. It leaked through the cracks like steam from the tea-filled mug in front of us.

"Why me?" Remus says, eventually.

Both Janus and Logan look up, the former from his tea, and the latter from his tools. The strength of their stares, identical in so many ways, makes Remus falter, but he soldiers on.

"Why did you choose me? How did you know that I'm... how I am?"

The two look at each other, and Logan motions towards the other expectantly. Janus sighs, glancing to Remus before focussing on the contents of his mug intently. "Remember last September, when you dropped your lunch tray?" He says slowly, as if weighing each word.

Of course we do. We'd been arguing about something or other, screaming at each other in our mind until the outside world faded away completely. The lunchroom had fallen silent as our tray, for seemingly no reason, slipped from our hands and smashed to the ground, cracking on impact.

"Sometimes... it seemed like you were talking to someone else? Like someone else was there, fighting." Janus pauses, casting a tentative tight smile at us. "I don't know. Patton describes it as a gut feeling. An instinct of sorts." Janus reaches across the table, and gently takes our hand in his, similar to how Patton had taken our hand the day he'd come to babysit with us. Remus pulls our hand away quickly, and something flashes in Janus' eyes. But he just returns his hand back to his mug, subdued. "Anyway, we got Logan to check your files, and they said that you hadn't settled until you were twelve. That was a big clue."

Remus hunched over our tea. The soft, sweet steam smells of soothing flowers. Like poppies. It's calming. "So, you could just tell. Just like that."

"What do you mean?" Janus asks.

"It was that obvious that I was...?"

Janus laughs darkly. "Well, no. It's not like anyone could have just hacked into your school files like Logan did, so--"

"Janus is making it sound a lot worse than it actually was." Logan says, voice low. He's finally set down his screwdriver, his attention now undivided. He's completely focused on us, eyes calculating and cold despite how warm the brown of his irises is. "Besides, is there something so wrong with that? With being different from the others?"

"You sound like those dumb after-school TV specials." Remus says, laughing even as our fingers tighten around our mug. He twists our voice into a mockery of chirpy happiness. _"It's okay to be different."_

Logan just quirks an eyebrow. "Isn't it?"

"Not like this, it isn't."

"Yet, you still came." Is all Logan says.

Remus is quiet for a moment. Then haltingly, he says: "Roman wanted to."

Logan's expression doesn't change, but Janus smiles a little.

"I--" Remus frowns. Suddenly, we're overcome by a wave of dizziness. Our head feels strange. Stuffy. Cottony. Like we might throw up, but also we're floating in zero gravity. Remus pushes away our mug of tea, pushing the sweet smell of poppies away from under our nose. "I... I don't..."

We sway, words slurring together. Then they stop all together.

 _< Roman?!> _I hear Remus cry. One solitary, frightened word.

And then he's gone.

Darkness. We slump forward, knocking our head hard against the table.

I scream.


	12. Chapter 12

_< Remus? REMUS?>_

Nothing.

It's not just silence. It's emptiness. There's a lack of... _anything_ where Remus should have been. Even when we ignore each other, even when Remus and I put up barriers to hide our emotions from each other, I can still feel the wall that's been put up. But there's no wall now. There's a chasm.

Nausea slaps against me.

"Oh my goodness!"

"Move the mug, Patton. It's a good thing he didn't knock into it."

"He pushed it away himself. It was like he knew--"

"Well, you were being so obvious about it, I'm surprised he drank any of it at all."

The voices fade into murmurs as I dive down away from the surface of consciousness. I delve as deep into the depths of darkness as I dared, searching frantically for signs of Remus. The warmth of his presence, his thoughts, his life, are gone. There's nothing to show that he'd ever existed. Our body feels empty. Hollow. Too big. Of course it's too big. Our body had always held two. Now there's only one.

"Roman?"

 _< Yes?> _I shout, panicked in the engulfing darkness.

"Can you hear us, Roman?" Patton calls.

 _< Yes! Yes, I can hear you. Where's Remus? What happened to Remus?!> _I shout as loud as I can, desperate and drowning.

But of course they hear nothing at all.

"Lay him down first." Logan says. "I'll bring him over."

Hands grab our arms and tilt us back in our seat. Someone pulls our chair away from the table. Then more hands, around our waist now. Finally, there's a heave and we're in the air, being carried slowly towards some unknown destination. And I, trapped inside this body that is and isn't mine, can't even say a word out loud. Can't even scream.

Where are they taking us? Had this all been a trick? A trap? Is this how the government roots out soul hybrids who'd escaped institutionalization? By pretending they have friends, have people who understand? By letting them feel like they aren't alone and then snatching them up when they're vulnerable?

We'd walked right into it. Or I had, and I'd dragged Remus down with me.

I'd been so stupid. So trusting. So desperate to believe that I might move again.

"Could you get that pillow, Patton? That one... just put it here..."

I feel something soft and solid below us. The hands let go. They aren't taking us out of the house, then. Maybe they aren't planning on kidnapping us.

I don't even feel anything remotely akin to relief. I just maybe feel a little less horribly sick.

 _< Remus.> _I say. _< Remus, what have they done to us?>_

"Roman?" It's Logan. "Roman, listen."

I am listening. I am listening, but they can't know because Remus isn't here to tell them.

"Roman, if you're freaking out, you have to stop. You have to listen to us. Remus is fine. He's just... asleep right now because of the medication. We didn't think that he'd take it if he knew--"

They'd drugged us. They'd really drugged us. A flash of anger sears through me, singeing away just a little of the overwhelming terror.

"Roman, can you move?"

Of course I can't move!

"The medicine will help, Roman." Patton says. "Try to wiggle your fingers, just an itty bitty bit, if you can."

I try. I try like I've been trying to for years, if only so I can get the hell away from here. Away from these two people who'd _drugged us and took away Remus._ Nothing happens. I'm trapped in a dead prison of skin and bones, shackled to limbs that I can't control. What sort of plan is this? Are they trying to help us? Like _this?_

 _< Remus. Please, Remus, wake up.> _I plead. _< I need you, I can't do this. Please.>_

I feel a hand envelope mine, and I can't jerk away.

"Roman," Someone says, in a tone lower and different than the others. "Roman, this is Virgil."

Virgil. Logan's voice, but Virgil's. Just as Remus' voice is also mine. Or, had been mine.

"We haven't technically met yet, I know. But, we will, okay?" Virgil says. "Right now, we just want you to try to move your fingers. Move the fingers of the hand I'm holding right now."

The gentle pressure on my right palm helps orient me. I mentally trace up to the tips of our fingers. I try again to curl them, even just a little. I try, concentrating as hard as I can.

"It's been years, I know." Virgil says. "It's been a long time, but not too long. You can still do it, Roman."

_< I can't. I can't. Not like this.>_

Not alone in the dark like this.

"Roman? Are you still trying?"

 _< Yes.> _I say, hearing my voice waver with tears I can't cry against the walls of the inside of my captivity. _< Yes, yes.>_

"I know it's hard."

 _< Do you?> _My voice reverberates shrilly in the chasm that had stolen Remus. _< Have you ever been like this? Drugged and alone?>_

Virgil doesn't hear, so he doesn't respond. Instead, a new voice breaks through the darkness. Patton? Janus?

"Roman, you have to trust us."

_Trust them?!_

"The medicine will wear off in a little while." He says. "So please, please try."

I try. I lie there in the dark, listening to them talk at me for what seems like hours. I scream into the abyss that I'm trapped in, and I stop trying. I fall backwards in defeat. I can't do this.

"That's it, Roman." Patton, or maybe it's Janus, says. "That's good. Keep going."

"You've almost got it." Virgil says. He's said it at least ten times.

 _< I'm not!> _I scream. _< I'm not close at all, I can't do it!>_

I can't do it.

I can't.

I'm not strong enough, not good enough, not tough enough. It's been too long. And Remus... Remus is gone. I can't do it without him. I've never done _anything_ without him.

I've dreamed so long of being able to move again, every fantasy tasting equally of longing and terror. But, I'd never dreamed that I would be alone like this. That it would happen like this.

"Come on, Roman."

No. No--

"You can do it."

_< Shut up. Shut up shut up SHUT UP!>_

"Please, Roman."

_< I can't do it! I CAN'T DO IT!>_

"Roman--"

"I CAN'T!"

Silence.

"Roman?" Patton breathes, after a moment. "Roman, was that you?"

Me?

Oh.

_Oh._

" _Virgil--_ Did you hear that? Did you hear him?"

My head spins, and I feel like I'm falling.

"Can you do it again?" Virgil asks, softly.

I'd spoken. I'd formed words and moved our lips and tongue and _spoken_.

They'd heard me.

 _< Remus?> _I say. _< Remus, I spoke. I spoke, Remus, I spoke!>_

From far within the abyss, comes a pulse.

My heart catches. _< Remus?>_

Again, the pulse. Then comes a feeling like the drawing of a breath. There's a glimpse of something as small and insubstantial as the first light of dawn floating up from the chasm.

 _< Roman...> _It whispers, warm and frightened. _< Roman?>_

Then he's back, bleary-eyed and weak and confused, but back, back, back. Back filling that terrible hole inside us. Making us whole again. Making us how we're meant to be.

 _< Roman?> _He says. _< What happened?>_

Then I'm laughing, almost crying in relief. _< It's okay. We're okay.>_

He believes me. But, he keeps our eyes closed for the meantime, and I feel him relax back into his place beside me little by little.

 _< Roman,> _He murmurs. _< I had the wildest fucking dream. Did you have it, too?>_


	13. Chapter 13

Remus is still woozy five minutes after he awakes, swaying a bit as he tries to sit up. He moves as though through syrup, each limb thick and unwieldy.

 _< I can't raise our arm.> _He says. We can see Patton and Virgil now, and they're crouched by the sofa. They're still talking, their words washing over us but barely sinking in. Remus isn't listening at all. I manage to hear enough to know that the drug would take a little longer to wear off completely.

 _< Don't worry.> _I tell Remus. _< It'll get better in a bit.>_

 _< It was the goddamn tea, wasn't it?> _He says.

_< It was.>_

I don't tell him anything that he doesn't ask about. I don't tell him about what happened while he slept. I don't tell him that I'd spoken.

I don't think he's ready to know.

Remus strengthens, his presence growing less tenuous beside mine. He keeps blinking, like someone trying to clear away a dream.

"Remus?" Patton, or maybe it's Janus, I can't be sure, is reaching towards us, before pulling his hand away at the last moment. "Are you okay now?"

Remus starts, as if noticing the others are there for the first time. "You-- You drugged me." His words are slurred.

The siblings look at each other.

"We had to." Virgil says. "It's so much easier with the drug--"

"What's easier?" Remus asks.

Another glance between the pair in front of us. The sofa is solid against out back, and our fingers dig into the rigid fabric.

"Didn't Roman tell you?" Virgil asks.

Remus' frown deepens. "How would... How would _he_ know?"

"Well..." Patton tugs on a curl of his hair, wrapping it around his finger. "Roman was awake, right?"

"No he wasn't, that's stupid." Remus says. "That's not pos--"

_< I was.>_

The rest of Remus' sentence lodges in our throat. It hurts to breathe around. _< What?>_

I hesitate. Patton and Virgil are watching us, studying our face. But, I know that Remus isn't paying them any attention.

 _< I was awake.> _I say.

 _< But--> _Remus falters. _< How?>_

_< I don't know. The drug did it, somehow. They put you to sleep, but I-- I was awake, Remus.>_

Stunned silence. His astonishment swirls wildly around me.

 _< But,> _He says. _< But-- No, that's-->_

 _< I talked, too.> _I say, unable to stand it any longer. The very knowledge of it pushes deep into us. _< I spoke, Remus. When you were asleep.>_

 _< Oh.> _He says. Then again, softer. _< Oh.>_

"Remus?" Patton says, his fingers hovering above our arm.

Remus looks up. Our lips part. Then comes the sound, hoarse and crackly. "Roman talked?"

Patton smiles warmly. "He did."

Remus stares. He doesn't speak, not even to me. I match his silence. I don't know what to say.

Then, suddenly, Remus tries to stand. Our legs feel too frail to support our weight. "I'm... I'm going to go home." He says.

Patton grabs hold of our arm as we wobble on our feet. "No, Remus, stay. Please stay."

"Wait a little longer. I'll walk you back." Virgil says. Remus looks at him. He doesn't even know that he's Virgil, I realize. He thinks that he's still Logan.

"I'm good." Remus says. He tugs out of Patton's grasp and sleepwalks towards the kitchen. The two hurry after us, their feet pattering against the hardwood floors.

"I'm coming with you!" Patton calls. "Just wait a second, Remus. I'm--"

Remus seems not to hear.

 _< Maybe we should let someone walk us back.> _I say meekly as we stumble and have to grab the counter. Remus doesn't respond, and I don't mention it again.

He slips into our shoes without tying the laces. But, when he reaches for our book bag, Virgil is already holding it. He opens the door, and nods for us to go through first.

"No wait, I'll go Vir--Logan." Patton says. "I can go."

I don't know how the argument ends. I can't hear because Remus has already stepped over the threshold, our shoelaces clacking as we walk. I hear the door close behind us, and then a voice by our ear. "You should tie your shoes or you'll trip on them."

Remus doesn't look at him, just bending at the waist to do the knots. Our fingers fumble with the laces. When we stand again, Logan is watching us.

"Well, let's go, then." He says, not unkindly. "I do not know where you live, so you're going to have to lead the way."

They walk the first two blocks in silence, the humidity makes it feel like we're slogging through sheets of suspended rain. The sky looks like it's straight out of a story book, so perfect summer-spring blue that it almost hurts to look at.

I can't tell what Remus is thinking. His mind is either blank, or he's boxed me out. The few cars on the road rush by as if we don't exist. They don't know who we are. What we'd just done.

What _I'd_ done.

"What did he say?"

"I'm sorry?" Logan asks, turning to face us.

It takes Remus a moment to repeat himself. "What did he say?"

"Who do you mean? Roman?" He asks, eyebrows drawing together.

Remus nods.

Logan looks a bit caught off guard. "What do you mean?"

It doesn't make sense to him why Remus would ask him instead of me. I don't know, either. I'm not even sure if Remus knows.

"I want to know what he said while I was asleep." Remus says. Our voice is low, almost raspy.

Logan is quiet for a second before answering. "He said: I can't." He inflicts the last two words to indicate that they're mine.

"Can't what?"

"Why don't you ask him?" Logan says, tone chilled.

Remus doesn't reply. I expect Remus to retreat inwards, and do just that. Ask me about it. But he doesn't. He just stays deathly silent.

Logan looks away. "Does it make you happy? That he spoke, I mean?" He asks, tentatively.

" _Happy?"_ says Remus.

Logan stops walking, and our eyes drop to the ground, away from Logan's curious gaze.

"Happy." Remus says, softer this time. The lukewarm, waterlogged air swallows our voice.

"It's alright." Logan says, after a moment. "It's alright if you aren't."

Slowly, Remus looks up to meet his eyes.

"I think he understands if you aren't." Logan says, in a tone that's different. Quieter, raw, honest. And perhaps, for just a second, it's not Logan talking at all, but Virgil.

Again, Remus says nothing, and eventually the two start walking again. They take their time. Today isn't a day that was built for walking quickly.

Little by little, our house comes into view. Squat, off-white, with a black-shingled roof and a row of scraggly rose bushes. It had been one of the few that we could afford when our parents decided to move. Our room was smaller than the one that we'd had before, and Mom doesn't like the kitchen layout, but complaints had been kept to a minimum as we'd walked through the halls for the first time. We might have been young then, but not so young that we didn't understand that doctors were expensive and government stipends only helped so much.

Soon, we stand in our front yard. The soft kitchen lights shine through the strawberry-coloured curtains.

"Here you are." Logan says, holding out our book bag. Remus looks at it as if he's forgotten it's ours, then nods slowly before taking it, turning, and heading toward the house.

"I will see you later, then, Remus." Logan calls after us. He's stopped at the edge of our yard, letting Remus walk the short distance to the door alone. There might be a question buried in his words, or it might just have been out of reflex. A meaningless goodbye people pass around. I'm not sure.

Remus nods. He doesn't look at Logan. "Later."

Logan's footsteps are heard as he starts to walk away. But, before he can get far, he hesitates, before adding. "Goodbye, Roman."

Remus stills. The air smells of dying roses.

 _< Bye.> _I whisper.

Our hand freezes on the doorknob. Slowly, Remus turns around, breath caught in his throat.

"He says bye."

Logan smiles a little, before walking away.


	14. Chapter 14

After that day, Remus and Patton walk together to the Hart's house every afternoon after school. Remus no longer drinks the tea, though, because as April turns to May, the weather becomes much too hot for that. Instead, Patton dissolves the medicine into sugar water, to help mask the bitter taste.

Remus and I don't really talk about the sessions much. I tell myself not to bring it up, because I don't want to push my luck. Remus is risking everything by agreeing to go. What more can I ask for? He seems to feel a bit more comfortable with the idea now, but I still don't bring it up. Maybe it's because I'm scared. I'm scared because of how Remus never answered Logan's question about whether he's happy that I spoke. I'm scared of hearing what Remus really has to say, what he really feels.

Patton and Remus don't speak much, either. Though, it's not due to any lack of trying on Patton's part. Remus fields his attempts at conversation with an averted gaze and one-word replies. But as long as we don't have a babysitting job in the afternoon, Remus never misses a day.

But, today is one such day, where we're walking towards the Sanders' house instead of the Hart's. We're climbing up their steps, book bag over one shoulder, and what feels like relief seeping through from under the wall that Remus seems to have permanently built up between us. Remus opens the door, and greets Mr. Sanders as he usually does, simply in passing on his way out of the door.

Remus kicks off our shoes, and steps into the foyer. "Guess who's back? Did you miss me?" Remus calls out, looking around for the Sanders kids. Thomas calls out from the living room, and Remus follows the sound.

Two bodies sit on the couch, one with bright wide eyes as he watches the cartoons that play on the blaring television. The other is curled in on himself, head between his knees. Maybe he's sleeping.

"How are you three little maggots doing today?" Remus jokes, ruffling Thomas' hair as he goes by.

"Two." The word is so quiet that I almost think that I made it up. But, Remus turns towards Thomas, who's now looking towards his brother, who still has his face hidden from view.

"What?" Remus asks, not daring to breathe.

"There's only two of us now." Thomas says.

And just like that, everything stops. The clocks, our heartbeat, everything.

"It's just Remy and me."

The silence stretches for what feels like hours.

"But, I thought that Dice was going to..." Remus falters off.

"Me too." It's Remy, he's slowly lifting his head from between his legs, and the tear tracks are clear on his cheeks. His voice is small and filled with broken innocence, a stark reminder of how young he really is. He's still a child, just as we are.

"So... You've settled." Remus says, moving to sit beside Remy on the couch. "That's a good thing, right?"

Remy shrugs his shoulders, wiping at his eyes with his fists. "Nobody told me... Would feel so empty."

\--

Remus doesn't say anything that night, when we lie awake. I can feel him beside me, the warmth of his soul next to mine, in a silence of cracked glass. I feel myself grasping to hold myself still and tangible. There's the sensation of terror clawing at me, a feeling that has become more and more common lately. The sight of Remy's face, streaked with tears and grief, is seared into what I see on the back of our eyelids, which are closed, but we aren't even close to sleeping. I'm like a fist clenched so tight that it trembles with tremors.

Something about that afternoon hit something in Remus. He's still just as quiet, still not sharing his thoughts with me, but I can feel the way our features stay twisted into a frown, and how our eyes are strained, like they want us to cry.

I feel like I should say something. Everything, maybe. But I don't know what to say.

I wonder if Remus feels the same way.

\--

Once, a few months before our fourteenth birthday, I disappeared. Completely.

I wasn't gone long, only about five or six hours. But, it had felt like a timeless eternity. It was when Thomas Sanders had settled. We weren't there when it happened, actually it happened a few weeks afterwards. We'd been visiting Thomas in the hospital when he was really sick with pneumonia. Our parents had brought us along with their flowers, and were speaking in hushed voices in the hallway, which had left us alone with the almost six-year-old. He had looked terrible, with a pasty face and dark circles around his usually bright eyes. It felt cold and terrifying, as after all of the times Remus and I had been in them, hospitals were amongst the scariest places on the planet.

Thomas had asked us something, when we were alone with him. He'd whispered it to Remus as he sat on the edge of his bed.

If he died, did that mean he'd get to be with Joan again?

Remus had to fight past the stopper in our throat before he could breathe, let alone answer. As was customary, no one had spoken of Joan since they'd faded away. _"You're not going to die."_ Is what Remus ended up saying.

_"I miss Joan sometimes."_ Thomas had said. _"I know I'm not supposed to, but I do. Do you... Do you miss yours?"_

_"...No, I don't."_ Remus had said, because that's what you were supposed to say. _"Of course I don't."_

And suddenly I was so, so scared.

I didn't know why I was terrified, but it was like a bolt of ice had struck down through my whole being. I was so scared, in that moment, that I didn't want to be there, beside Remus. I felt like I was drowning. All my life I'd wanted to hold on so badly, but suddenly I was so opposite. I'd spent my whole life clutching on, but then I was curling up smaller and smaller. It was terrifying, but I'd been so hurt, so angry, so scared...

And before I had even realized what I was doing, it was done. I was gone.

I spent those few hours in a world of half-formed dreams while Remus panicked and screamed for me to come back. I didn't know that at the time, but he'd admitted it to me a year later. I knew some of it, though. I felt his fear when I returned, cloudy-eyed and confused. I'd tasted his relief.

And I never disappeared again, no matter how hard we fought. No matter how scared I was.

But tonight, I came close. I felt myself flirt at the edge of it, too frightened to make the leap but distraught enough to think that I might.


	15. Chapter 15

"I have to go to someone's house today." Patton says, as he carefully slips books into his backpack the next day. "We've got a project due--"

Remus hesitates. "Tomorrow, then."

"No, wait." Patton says. He smiles, it's small but friendly. "I won't be long. Half an hour at most, okay?"

I say nothing, waiting for Remus to say no. But he doesn't. He just nods.

"Logan can walk with you, if you'd like. I'll ask him. He knows where the medicine is, and he'll make sure nothing happens to Roman while you're asleep. I'll be there when you wake up. I promise." 

Remus nods again, and turns away from Patton. He takes a step down the hall, towards our final class of the day. But, then, for some reason. He stops. He stops, and turns back around slowly. My voice feels caught up in a tangle, and I can only watch on as Remus reaches out, and takes Patton's hand in his own.

"Thank you, Janus."

There's stunned silence. Both inside and outside. Janus' fingers give ours a gentle squeeze.

"...You're welcome."


	16. Chapter 16

Remus is sipping on the sugar water that Logan has prepared for us. The two hadn't spoken much on the walk home, nothing more than pleasant superficial conversation that it felt like Remus hadn't really been paying attention to.

I feel the slight fuzziness start to nip at the edges of our consciousness. It still makes me sick to feel Remus get ripped away from me, but I'm getting better at remaining calm. He always comes back. It's much easier knowing that he will come back, that the drug's effects last only an hour at most, and sometimes less.

Logan hooks an arm around our waist, and helps us over to the couch to lie down. He doesn't whisper comforting things into our ear like Patton does, but his arm is secure around us, and he offers us a small smile as he helps us lie back. He leaves us for the moment, and we watch him move to sit in an armchair nearby, peacefully picking up a book and reading quietly for the meantime, giving Remus as much privacy as he can while he falls asleep, while still keeping within a safe distance.

Then, for the first time since we'd started the sessions, I feel something change. Remus starts to take down the wall between us. It happens little by little, like he's pulling it apart one brick at a time. But it does come down. He whispers to me.

_< Roman?>_

_< Yeah?>_

_< I know that I can be a lot to handle. I know that I'm loud, and we fight a lot, and I call you cockslut, and I have a hard time with this... stuff. Being the way that we are.> _Remus' words start to slur together. _< But... I'm happy that you're here with me.>_

If I could smile, I would have, right then.

_< I love you too.>_

I don't know if he hears me, because I feel the last of him slip away beside me as the tavern of his sleep replaces him in our mind. So he doesn't respond, and our eyes slip closed.

About ten minutes later, I can hear Logan stand from his chair in the corner of the room, and my name floats in through the blackness.

"Roman?"

He says it like a secret. Like a password, a code whispered through locked doors.

 _< Yes?> _I say, though he can't hear. Everything is darkness, with the exception of the feeling of the soft couch beneath Remus and me. I can feel the ridges in the fabric beneath our limp fingertips, the textured grain against the heel of our hand.

I feel the warmth of his palm as he lays it softly on the back of our hand, the pressure of his fingers, the brush of his thumb against our pulse. "It's Virgil." He says. "I figured you-- That you'd like to know there was someone here."

I try to speak. I focus on our lips, on our tongue, on our throat. I try to form a _thank you_ with a mouth that belongs to me, to both of us, that doesn't want to obey at the moment. It seems that I'm not going to be able to speak on this particular day. So instead, I focus on Virgil's hand, which is easier. He slides his palm down over our knuckles, his fingers tucking beneath our hand. I slowly curl our fingers around his, and squeeze as hard as I can, which is barely anything at all.

I figure that is as articulate as I'm going to get.

Today anyways.

But there will be more days, because even if the government doesn't want me here... Remus does. He's happy that I'm here.

I think about how, one day, I'll be able to open my eyes. One day, I'll be able to respond to him, to sit and talk with him and Patton and Janus and Logan, with Remus there too. One day, I'll be able to wrap our fingers around a hundred more cups of hot chocolate, and maybe, I'll be able to kiss someone. The thought of it alone is enough to make me want to keep fighting, no matter what the cost.


	17. Chapter 17

**_Hey guys!_ **

**_Thanks so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed it! I know it's a bit different stylistically than what I usually post, but I enjoyed writing it anyways. If you liked this story, I have other works on my platform, and more on the way. No pressure or anything, but checking out my platform and other work is a great way to support me and my writing if you like it!_ **

**_Thanks so much, again, for reading this far! I hope you're well. Stay strong, stay safe._ **

**_Take care <3_ **


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